Mom: What are you making?
Me: [thinking ohhh shitttt] I'm making a...smoothie...thing...errr
Mom: [takes a whiff] You don't have enough tequila in it.
Me: Wait, what? Who said I was making a drink?
Mom: I'm not retarded, I know what you're doing.
Me: Ma, there's already like three shots in this.
Mom: Well...one more won't hurt. Oh, and don't tell your
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